Irreplaceable
by shortstackedcheesecake
Summary: When Mr Kitty passes away, Cartman is distraught. Even if Kyle and Mr Kitty weren't exactly the best of friends, he can't turn a blind eye to Cartman's heartbreak. He and the boys decide to do something about it. Rated T. A birthday present for PartiPooper!


**A/N: **_Happy Birthday, fwend! I hope you enjoy your present! It probably turned out a little more depressing than you may have hoped, but what did you expect? I can't resist angst, I love it! But not as much as I love you, fwend! I'm so lucky to have a best friend as kind, smart, funny, hard-working, talented, and just absolutely amazing as you! You make me smile and laugh every day, and I feel like we can talk about everything and anything! I'm so proud of you, and so happy to have you in my life. You are truly irreplaceable, fwend! I hope you've had a birthday as shpadoinkle as you are!_

_(fyi: there's some pretty intense mourning and a pretty sick cat in this fic. Just a heads up for those of you who may find the subject matter upsetting, or if it hits too close to home)_

_I was also pretty confused about Mr Kitty's gender, but the South Park wiki says she's a female cat, so I'm just gonna roll with it. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy, and thank you for reading!_

* * *

Cartman had quickly slipped into his emotionally traumatised routine after his cat passed away. Lock himself away, refuse to go outside, or go to school, or contact anyone. The boys were familiar with all that, except for what exactly he did when he was alone. The tea parties when they were eight had been a confusing, delightful surprise. But they were a thing of the past now, and because Cartman was never far from Kyle's mind no matter how much he wanted the opposite to be true, he couldn't help but speculate. Crying, he guessed, lots of it. Pretty standard stuff. It warmed Kyle in a way, to know that Cartman was a lot more human than his actions made out. Loud, whiny crocodile tears that stirred everybody's sympathy except Kyle's, and quiet, suppressed sobs that did the trick. They were just another aspect of him that Kyle had grown accustomed to. Maybe he trashed his room? Binged on Cheesy Poofs until he puked? Maybe right now he was researching dark magic and the occult, trying to negotiate a deal for some necromancer to resurrect Mr Kitty... for a price. Kyle pondered the value of Cartman's soul, if it would be acceptable, or enough to grant his wish. Or maybe Cartman had another unwilling sacrifice in mind. He would have to keep a close eye on his friends for a while, lest they get snatched in the middle of the night.

He would soon find out exactly what Cartman was up to, as it was decided that after school the boys would pay him a visit. Even if they were familiar with Cartman's process, even if the first three days without him had been positively blissful, it had been nearly a week now of no contact at all. There's only so long you can ignore a fire in the hopes it will die down by itself. Kyle felt obligated to raise the issue on the way to school, and to decide that they would all pay their friend a visit. Cartman may have been an asshole, after all, but he still was one of their best friends since pre-school. It was their responsibility to check that he was alright. Kyle had been drifting off to restless sleep with that disapproving reminder ringing in his ears. It wasn't enough that Cartman demanded all of his irritated attention in person, he had to occupy his thoughts when he wasn't around, and thwart a good night's sleep too? God, it had been a long, boring week, and Kyle couldn't bear facing another one. They had to do something.

"What do you think he's been doing for the past week?" Stan asked as they approached Cartman's house.

Kenny shrugged.

"I don't know... He can't play with his stuffed animals anymore so-"

"He's thirteen," Kyle cut in. "Do you think he'd still do that? You know, if he could?"

"I wouldn't put it past him..." Kenny murmured.

Stan grimaced, an uneasy gleam to his eyes.

"I just don't think I could handle it if he's lying in bed cradling the urn-"

"He's not gonna be cradling the urn!" Kyle snapped, though he couldn't be sure. He hoped he was right. "We'll just say hi, see how he's doing, and then we can go..."

Stan and Kenny nodded in agreement, and Kyle elected himself to knock the door.

Miss Cartman soon opened it with her reliably friendly smile.

"Oh, hello, boys!"

"Hi, Miss Cartman, uh..." Kyle rubbed his hands on his thighs. His palms were suddenly sweaty. "We were wondering if we could see Eric?"

"Oh..." Miss Cartman whispered, struggling to keep her smile in place. She turned her head to glance at the stairs. She nodded. "Yes, I suppose that would be alright. Some company... it might be good... um, he's upstairs."

"Thanks..." Kyle murmured, smiling tightly at Miss Cartman as she let the boys come in.

They jogged up the stairs, solemn and quiet. They all glanced between each other as they reached the top, as if to make sure they had all made it. Like valiant knights on the most perilous of quests they had reached the mouth of a cave where an emotionally volatile dragon lived, and they had to brace themselves before entering it. This time, Kenny wordlessly volunteered to knock on Cartman's door.

"Go away, mom!"

It felt strange to hear Cartman's voice, especially when it was lacking its usual goading, arrogant buoyancy.

"It's not your mom. It's us," Kenny replied.

"Oh... fuck off, you guys!"

Again, they all looked between each other. They expected resistance, for Cartman to snap at the helping hand being offered to him. They just had to rally together.

"Dude, please, can we come in?" Kenny begged. "We're worried about you, man, you haven't been in school all week!"

"I'm grieving! If those bastard teachers are getting all nosy, tell them I'm grieving and that by prying into my personal life my civil rights are being breached!"

Kenny sighed, and Kyle took it as his cue to intervene. He stepped towards the door.

"God damn it, Cartman, we're your friends and we actually want to be there for your ungrateful ass! So stop wallowing and let us in!"

Silence. Kyle didn't expect that, and his abrasive words started to taste a little sour.

"Wow, that was harsh, dude..." Kenny remarked.

"Yeah, Kyle, his cat just died..."

Kyle scowled, opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted.

"Alright, assholes, you can come in..." Cartman said, quieter but still audible in the silence.

Kyle was emboldened then, and was prepared to give the guys a smug, 'I-told-you-so' look, but his triumph was dampened when the guys went into the bedroom without him, disapproval still clouding their faces. But any irritation, or pride, or anything other than unease was lifted when Kyle stepped foot in Cartman's bedroom. The pleasant mid-afternoon was blotted out by the curtains forcibly shut. The dark purple walls seemed almost black. Alexa was playing Adele, surrounded by plates of half-eaten food, overturned tubs of ice cream, and in the middle of this grief-stricken apocalypse stood a simple, silver urn like the last remaining tower in a wasteland.

But Kyle would've stared at those forever if it meant Cartman would fade into the background. He was curled up under the covers, with only his matted hair and wet, blood-shot eyes visible. He shivered under the blankets as if his grief was a fever only sobbing could relieve. Instead of the urn, he clutched a box of tissues like it was a teddy bear. It made Kyle ache, and itch with the need to do something he didn't have the courage to do. Lie next to Cartman, wipe his eyes, stroke his hair, hold him close... the urge to do all those things was alarming, and mortifying, and wait, wasn't that Kyle's old blanket at the foot of the-

"I told my mom to not let anybody up here..." Cartman said, voice brittle. "Fucking bitch..."

"She's worried about you, dude," Kenny replied softly. "We all are. We just wanted to make sure you're okay-"

"Yeah, man," Stan interjected, fidgeting. Kyle knew he wasn't great at handling this stuff. "I'm so sorry to hear about Mr Kitty-"

"Thanks, Stan" Cartman interrupted, as if wanting to stomp out any mention of his beloved pet.

"Is there anything we can do?" Kenny asked.

"Well, nothing you can do can bring her back, can it?"

The boys looked between each other, helpless. There had to be _something_.

"No, but... that's not the point, Cartman," Kyle replied, voice straining with desperation. "It's awful that you've lost Mr Kitty, and I know she can never be replaced but-"

"As if you give a shit, Kyle. You hated her."

Kyle flushed, embarrassed that all his years of tolerating Mr Kitty had not been at all convincing. Still, hate was a very strong word.

"I-I-I never hated her!"

"It's okay," Cartman replied, with a hint of a smile in his voice. "She didn't like you either."

Kyle sighed.

"Cartman, we just wanna help you feel better."

"Not interested," Cartman answered, before turning his back on them.

The boys looked between each other once more, to gauge if they had done all that they could. The sad, resounding conclusion was 'yes.' Even if deep down it couldn't help but feel like they hadn't done anything at all. They shuffled towards the door, as if trying to scrape together some more time, when suddenly Stan brightened.

"Wait!" he said, catching everyone's attention. "What if we have a funeral?"

Intrigued, Cartman peeked over his shoulder.

"Yeah, we could honour her memory, and celebrate her life, and make sure she's at peace!" Stan added, delighted with his idea. "It could actually be kind of nice..."

"Burying a dead cat would be nice?" Cartman replied, with his signature resistance. "Jeez, Stan I thought you liked animals."

Stan flushed, rolling his eyes.

"I do, that's why I suggested it, dum-" Stan quickly stopped himself from insulting his grieving friend. "Look, we don't have to bury her we can just... have a memorial service! You know, remember her, and talk about all the things we loved and are gonna miss about her! Don't you think Mr Kitty would want you to be happy? To have some closure?"

While Cartman considered it, Kyle and Kenny shared pleased smiles at a potential breakthrough.

"Sounds good to me." Kenny nodded, clapping Stan on the back.

"Kyle?" Cartman asked over his shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"What do you think?"

Kyle wasn't the only one confused by Cartman's line of questioning. The guys looked at each other with small frowns and creased foreheads. Why did Kyle's opinion matter so much? Why did he get the casting vote? Kyle couldn't lie though, it felt good to be considered special... by Cartman... fuck.

"Uhh..."

Stan and Kenny stared at Kyle as they waited for his answer.

"I think Mr Kitty would've wanted it..." Kyle decided, smiling.

Cartman scoffed.

"Don't patronise me, asshole..." he replied. "Fine, let's do it."

* * *

That weekend Kyle found himself standing in Cartman's backyard with Stan and Kenny, all wearing their best suits. They stood with their hands behind their backs, waiting for Cartman to emerge from his house. Resistant, still, but not the stubborn, torn-up resistance of before. This was more like fear, apprehension. Beginning this memorial service would be the first stitch in suturing the wound, closure he wanted, and needed, but was still afraid of... not to mention he couldn't resist a dramatic entrance. Dramatic _anything_. Cartman didn't know the meaning of the word 'half-hearted.' This remembrance of Mr Kitty couldn't just be an afternoon sat around a dining table, poring over photographs, and reminiscing whilst sharing a pizza. No, it had to involve suits, and flowers. Kyle saw Stan smiling to himself. He had every right to revel in his brilliant idea. Organising this memorial service had got Cartman out of bed, after all.

A wreath reclined against the trunk of what Cartman said was Mr Kitty's favourite tree, and from its branches dangled photos that warmed Kyle's heart in the chilly, sombre afternoon. There was a photo of one of Cartman's first Christmases, grinning at a kitten with a bow attached to its collar. They were strangers then, staring at each other with the same wide, curious eyes. There was another photo of Cartman as a toddler, holding Mr Kitty up to the camera proudly. A photo of Cartman in third grade playing tea party with his toys. He had invited Mr Kitty too, propped her up in a chair. But she wasn't as compliant and static as his other tea party guests, and was stood in the middle of the table, sniffing at plastic cups. There were photos of Mr Kitty curled up in her basket, pale blue eyes narrowed at the camera, and photos of her sleeping on pretty much every piece of furniture in Cartman's living room. The most recent photo was taken when Mr Kitty was very ill indeed. Her eyes were weeping, and her bones were protruding from her thinning fur. Cartman's cheek was pressed against hers, and he had a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his sad eyes. Kyle felt a dull ache in his chest the longer he stared.

They turned their heads at the sound of the back door clicking shut. Cartman had stepped into the backyard, accompanied by his mom who wore a black dress and cardigan, and was clutching a small boombox. As they approached the boys, Kyle noticed that mournful organ music was drifting out of the speakers. He also realised just how pale Cartman looked in the daylight. His eyes were painfully red, framed by the shadows of restless nights. His cheeks even looked a little hollow, and Kyle could've sworn his sleeves were pooling at his wrists a little. He winced, hating how he had been oblivious to Cartman crying until his eyes were sore. It was cruel enough that he had lost his beloved pet, but he'd been losing sleep and losing weight too? It was then Kyle wished he had kept calling, visited earlier, even on his own. And even if Cartman had been resistant, angry, unready, at least Kyle would've shown he was there for him. At least he was there now. That was something.

The boys nodded, and smiled tightly at Cartman as he took his place under the tree. The photos on the branch fluttered in the breeze like wind-chimes, and Kyle half-wished they would make some gentle, soothing noise, if only to reassure Cartman he could do this. He cleared his throat.

"Thank you for coming. We're here today to remember..." he sighed, glanced at the urn he clutched tightly in his arms. "Mr Kitty Sigourney Cartman..."

Kyle had to bite back a grin upon discovering Mr Kitty's unusual middle name.

"I don't remember my life before her, and so I can't really imagine what my life will be like without her," Cartman continued. "It's hard to think that she won't be greeting me when I come home from school anymore, or crawling all over my bed on Saturday mornings, or bringing me dead mice, which were so fucking gross and cool..."

A grin flickered on Cartman's face as his friends all laughed softly.

"Um... she was my first friend." Cartman's voice trembled, and his small smile was just as wobbly. "She was better than any toy, you know, she was warm, and she was unpredictable, and unlike a stuffed animal she could purr and nuzzle into you when you were cuddling her... or wriggle away if she wasn't feeling it. I didn't always treat her so good though." He frowned with a dent in his brow. "I used to snap at her when she wanted my food, or when she was being too loud... I think the only time I stopped snapping at her was when I figured out she was trying to tell me something was wrong... when we took her to the vet and they said that she was sick and wasn't gonna make it, I wished I had never yelled at her once. We didn't think she'd stick around for so long after that, but I think she stuck around because she wanted to give me the time to make up for all the yelling. I never yelled at her again. I just..." Cartman smiled softly at the urn, almost as if Stan's fear was about to come true and he was going to cradle it. "I played with her, and stroked her where it didn't hurt, and helped her take her medicine, and... when I was just lying in bed, I'd pick her up and rest her on my chest and let her fall asleep there." He gulped, remembering himself and when he looked up Kyle noticed his eyes were gleaming. "It's pretty bleak but, I kinda hoped that that's where she would die. With me, in my room. But she took a really bad, scary turn and we had to take her to the vet. They said it was time. They let me hold her paw and she just... fell asleep."

Cartman's eulogy was like a bruised cloud that erupted heavy, solemn rain. It poured down and soaked everyone, leaving them dripping with tension. Kyle hadn't brought any tissues, so pressed his wrist to his eyes when they started to sting and blur. It was unusual for Kyle, to shed tears of pity over Cartman, no matter how many times he had caught brief glimpses of his vulnerability.

"She was an awesome cat, and an even more awesome friend," Cartman said, with a smile that now reached his eyes. "I'll always miss her, and never forget her, and whatever other cats come along... she'll always be _my _cat. Forever."

Cartman joined the guys when he finished. Kenny and Stan welcomed him into their arms, and even though that sharp, surging need returned for Kyle to hold Cartman, and tell him how proud he was, and that he had done the right thing, he couldn't move. Too shocked, and prideful, and he knew it wouldn't be enough for him. He had more to do, more to say.

"Uhh... does anybody wanna add anything?" Stan asked.

The perfect opportunity.

Kyle raised his hand. Stan smiled at him, and nodded. Hands tucked behind his back Kyle took Cartman's place under the tree, and tried to ignore the feeling that he didn't quite belong. He saw that Cartman's mom was now beside him, and had kissed his cheek. Kyle watched Cartman pink and duck his head, before slowly lifting it again to meet Kyle's eyes. He gulped.

"Uhh... I guess I'd like to start by saying that Mr Kitty and I were never exactly friends."

He didn't expect his friends to laugh, or for Cartman's smile to brighten in quite the way it did, but it emboldened Kyle nonetheless.

"But I'm gonna miss a lot about her," he continued. "Like... how sometimes she would prowl on the top of the couch, and her tail would brush against your neck. It would scare the shit out of you for a millisecond until you realised it was her, and that she was nothing to be afraid of. I'll miss how fascinated she was by the TV, especially if there was a dog, or a bird on the screen..." Kyle smiled, slightly breathless. "I'll miss how she used to purr whenever she circled Cartman's ankles, or when he used to pet her back, or the top of her head. I'll miss how Cartman spoke to her, in this sweet, soft tone that seemed like another language."

His smile wavered and he flushed when he realised he might have said too much. When he glanced at Cartman, he noticed he was smiling. It was catching, and Kyle felt like he should attempt a joke.

"And that's why I'll never be intimidated by you, ever..."

Cartman shook his head, chuckling to himself.

Kyle wondered if that was one of the first times Cartman had laughed since Mr Kitty had passed away. If that was true, he was glad he could make that happen.

"But I guess the thing I'll miss most of all is how happy Mr Kitty made you, Cartman."

Cartman's smirk softened, and he looked at Kyle as curiously as the toddler version of himself in the photos. He looked as unsure as Kyle felt, and it made his heart race a little.

"I'll miss that smile you had on your face whenever you petted her," he continued. "It was so special, it..." Kyle stopped, now that he was sure. He nodded to himself and smiled. "It was nice to see you like that."

Kyle blushed under the warmth of Cartman's smile, and again he felt like he may have said too much. But he didn't want to stop this cycle of telling the truth, making Cartman smile, and worrying if he had slipped up, said too much. It was as exhilarating as it was nerve-wracking.

"So I have to thank you, Mr Kitty. Thank you for making me friend so happy, and for tolerating me. I know you're irreplaceable, but..." He felt brave enough to look in Cartman's eyes when he said: "I hope, Cartman, that you find something - or _somebody_ else - who can make you smile that again. "

Cartman didn't respond. He just nodded and offered Kyle a smile that wasn't what he was looking for, but was pretty damn close.


End file.
